Fine.
“I’m gonna go watch TV.” Rocky unfastened his seat belt and opened the door.
“Wait,” she said, and almost to her surprise, he did.
“There are cookies on top of the fridge,” she said. “Grab some on your way, and let Rio out.”
“Sure!” He ran toward the house. This event had been stressful for him. No teen liked starting a new school. But at least he’d met a few kids. Thanks to Liam.
Liam, who still wasn’t opening his door. Odd.
The woman turned slowly around and came down the steps of Liam’s apartment.
Rita? What was she doing there?
Without a glance in Yasmin’s direction, the older waitress headed along the sidewalk toward downtown, shoulders slumped.
Yasmin got out of the car and Rio ran to greet her, then bounded around the yard. As she stood watching him, waiting to let him back inside and enjoying the cool air, Liam came strolling around the edge of her house.
“Hey,” he said as if showing up out of the darkness at nine thirty was the most natural thing in the world.
“You just missed Rita, and what are you doing?”
He glanced in the direction Rita had gone. “Yeah, I know. I was kind of hiding. But also kind of checking over your house. You’ve got a couple of windows that would make it really easy for someone to break in.”
She shook her head back and forth. “You’re avoiding Rita?”
He nodded. “That side door’s lock is pathetic, too.”
She sat down on the top step. “Why are you avoiding Rita?”
Liam blew out a breath, sat down on the bottom step and leaned back against the pillar. “If you have to know,” he said, “she’s my mother.”
“She’s what?” Yasmin’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, Liam, really? That’s fantastic! Tell me everything.”
He shrugged. “Not much to tell. She got knocked out by our dad, lost her memory, got picked up by a trucker and moved to Maine, and came back here to see if she could figure out her past.”
“She doesn’t remember you?” Yasmin thought of Rita, how she’d seemed so worried and upset at the center the other day, and her heart hurt. For Rita, and for Liam.
Liam shook his head.
“Wow.” She studied him. “But you believe she’s your mom.”
He nodded slowly. “I checked things out. Looks like she’s telling the truth. And she doesn’t seem to be trying to get anything from us, at least for now.”
“And you’re avoiding her because...”
“Because she was a terrible mother! She didn’t take care of us, didn’t do the tough work of raising us. So now she wants to come back and play grandma to Sean’s kids, and he’s letting her.”
“Sean accepts her?”
“She and Sean are having a love fest.” He rolled his eyes.
“But, Liam,” she said hesitantly, “she didn’t beat herself up or give herself amnesia. Don’t blame her.”
“She shouldn’t have gotten us into that situation in the first place,” he said, his voice indignant. “A good mother would have left him as soon as he got abusive, protected her kids.”
“Oh, Liam.” Yasmin sighed. “No mother’s perfect. Look at mine.”
“True,” he said, “but your mom can’t help the way she is.”
“Can yours? Is it her fault she had that susceptibility for whatever reason?”
He shrugged and looked away. “I don’t know.”
“Give Rita a chance, Liam. Just talk to her. Let her in a little. She’s a good person. She volunteers at the center, and she’s trying to understand her past.”
“I’ll take it into consideration,” he said, sounding grumpy. But as he stood, he reached over and gripped her hand. Just for a second, but it felt emotional. “See you tomorrow,” he said.
“See you.” She watched him walk across the lawn and marveled at the complexity of life.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE NEXT DAY’S shift change started out as usual. Liam was officially done, but had a few more things to clean up, so he was still at the station. Buck strolled in a few minutes late and propped a hip on the edge of Willa Jean’s desk, so he could ask her what had gone on today.
Anyone else would have asked Liam—he’d been here and on the streets all day, since the chief was out—but Buck made a point of semi-ignoring him.
Liam heard the clatter of Willa Jean’s printer and waited for her complaint about it. Right on time, it came: “This thing is from the 1990s, and it’s going to die on me any day. Don’t come to me crying the blues because your important report didn’t get printed. I’ve been telling you we need a new printer for years.”
Buck walked over toward the printer, did a double take and grabbed the papers. “Don’t print that out.”
What was Buck trying to hide?
“Sorry,” Willa Jean said. “I forgot.” She rolled her eyes at Liam.
He half smiled at her and looked around the station. Beat-up as it was, he loved this place. The old tile floor, speckled white with the occasional olive green tile, someone’s 1950s version of decoration. Fluorescent lights reflected off the floor and the gunmetal-gray file cabinets. The whole station was permeated by the nose-prickling scent of disinfectant.
“Hey, I just got a text,” Willa Jean called out to both of them. “Ramirez has been having stomach pains, so he went to the Express Doc out on the highway. Turns out they want him to go to the ER. He’ll be out for a few days, at least.”
“Diabetes or something else?”
“They don’t know yet.”
Liam frowned. He’d go visit the chief later tonight or tomorrow, see if he needed anything. “Keep me updated if you hear anything else, will you, Willa Jean?”
“I’ll take over for him,” Buck said, his voice casual. “I know most of what’s going on around here.”
Liam gave him a look. “I’m acting chief. It was put in the organizational structure when it was reviewed two years ago.”
“That was supposed to change,” Buck said. “We already started the paperwork.”
Liam’s stomach dropped. Could that be true? But no. Chief Ramirez wouldn’t have made a change like that without telling Liam. Still, Buck’s boldness surprised him. “No need for a coup just because the chief’s got a stomachache.”
“I’ll talk to the council about it,” Buck said with a challenging stare.
Liam watched him swagger out of the station. Mulligan was so cocky these days, almost like he knew he already had the chief job tied up. Maybe he did; maybe he knew something Liam didn’t. Certainly, he socialized in different circles than Liam did.
But something about Mulligan didn’t compute, especially if he was the man who’d sneaked into Yasmin’s room and tried to play crazy-maker with whispering voices. And there was no maybe about the fact that he’d turned Principal Smith against Liam, helping to get him evicted.
Although that had backfired on Mulligan, because Liam had ended up living over Yasmin’s garage, thus getting closer to her.
Could Mulligan’s quest for the chief job have pushed him over some kind of edge?
“See you later, Liam,” Willa Jean said as she got her purse out of her bottom drawer. Then she beckoned him closer.
“I’m not supposed to print out what’s on my screen,” she said in a low voice, “because Buck doesn’t want it to be common knowledge. But with Chief Ramirez down, seems to me it wouldn’t hurt if someone else took a look.”
Liam didn’t like the sound of that. “Something you want to talk about?”
“Nope,” she said. “I just forgot to turn my computer off. Wouldn’t be a problem if someone sat in my chair to turn it off for me.” She gave him a wink and walked out the door.
Liam walked over to her desk and sat down. He ought to fi
nd out what Willa Jean was talking about, what Buck didn’t want printed...he guessed. He didn’t like even the hint of impropriety, considering how he’d grown up. On the other hand, he wasn’t naive, and he knew a lot went on behind the scenes of even the cleanest police department.
His shot at chief was looking more and more difficult to achieve, but he should at least know what was going on.
He moved Willa Jean’s mouse and the screen brightened up. An email from someone named Geena, thanking Buck for forgiving her parking ticket and offering to get together again, anytime.
Liam shook his head and closed the email. It wasn’t in the least surprising that Buck traded favors regarding minor traffic violations, especially if the perp was pretty. Liam didn’t approve of it, would put a stop to it if he were chief—yet another reason Buck didn’t want him to get the job—but it wasn’t big enough to report.
He closed the email and was about to turn off the computer when he noticed the note that had come in right after the one from Buck’s lady friend.
Forensic ID—more info was the subject line.
The only forensic ID that was likely to come into this department, right now, was the underwater victim. But so far, there’d been nothing, according to Ramirez.
Without a second thought, Liam clicked on it.
Rec’d yr query. Latent lift labeled ABC was matched to the right index finger of William Baker, recently of Channing, South Carolina.
William Baker. The name was common and meant nothing to Liam.
Uneasiness gnawed at his belly and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Buck must have made an ID, then confirmed it with a print.
But who was the guy? And why had Liam—and the chief, apparently—been kept out of the loop?
Liam scraped a hand over his face. He’d have called Ramirez to discuss it, but the man was in the hospital.
He paced through the station, thinking. On the wall beside Ramirez’s desk was the printed commendation from the State of South Carolina: on Ramirez’s watch, crimes in Safe Haven had declined every year for ten years.
Liam wanted to be the chief who’d continue that trend.
But Buck was gaining ground by whatever means he could, including hiding information that could help solve a murder. His being chief wouldn’t lead to Safe Haven being a better place. The opposite, in fact.
Liam didn’t like to snoop. But some occasions justified it. Decision made, he walked over to Buck’s desk and started flipping through the paperwork. He’d just come upon a report from the DMV, identifying the submerged car as belonging to William Baker, when he heard the door open. He glanced up and registered Buck coming in but didn’t stop what he was doing.
“Looking for something?” Buck asked. His voice was casual...or at least, he was trying to make it sound so.
“Just seeing if there’s anything else the rest of us should be in on.”
“What are you talking about?”
Liam looked up, made direct eye contact. “Why didn’t you let anyone know that body and the car had been ID’d?”
Buck looked away as he leaned back against Willa Jean’s desk. “Stop trying to play in the big leagues, O’Dwyer. There’s a lot you don’t know.”
The attempt to put Liam down didn’t work. “I can see you’re hiding things about this investigation,” he said. “What I don’t understand is why.”
“That’s because you’re still on the outside of what’s going on in Safe Haven.”
“Is this all about your becoming chief?” Liam stood, slowly, and something made him be conscious of where Buck’s weapon was, where his own was and where Buck’s hands were. They shouldn’t be enemies, they were colleagues, but it was feeling less and less that way.
“As a matter of fact, it’s not,” Buck said easily. “I’m in charge of that case, and there are some developments you don’t need to know about.”
“And why’s that?” Liam’s blood was starting to boil, but he kept his voice calm.
Buck lifted an eyebrow. “Because you’re pretty close to one of the suspected perps. Maybe two of them.” He strolled out of the office. “Later, my friend.”
Liam stared after him. Buck thought he was close to a couple of perps, did he? Which of his close people—Rocky, Yasmin, his brothers—could Buck be wanting to implicate? And why?
* * *
THE NEXT DAY Yasmin finally felt like her work was getting back to normal. She’d counseled two women, one by phone and one in person, on strategies to make changes in their lives. She’d written up case notes and then started a new grant application.
As long as she kept researching and writing the grant, she could avoid thinking about Liam. But the moment she stopped for a break, her mind went there and stayed.
It had felt so good to be with him at Rocky’s school orientation night, and she’d admired his way with the high school kids. On the other hand, she couldn’t believe that he’d thought she would have Buck sneak into her bedroom at night. The very notion was appalling.
First, because she had no desire at all to sleep with Buck. And second, because some real human male sneaking into her bedroom was extremely creepy. Who could it have been? Who would have that crazy-making agenda?
Liam had seen the outline of the guy and had thought it was Buck. Maybe. But that didn’t make sense.
Deep in thought, she lost track of her work. She was just pulling her mind back into it when her phone buzzed. She was shocked to see that it was almost lunchtime.
It was Miss Vi. “You’d better get down to the library,” she said. “Josiah is in trouble.”
“I’ll be right there.” She grabbed her purse and rushed out the door.
Waiting at one of the few traffic lights in town, she realized what she wanted to do, although she felt funny about it. Before she could come up with excuses not to, she texted Liam about what Miss Vi had said. “Could you meet me there?” she asked.
When she reached the library, she found Josiah pacing in the small, glassed-in classroom. She hurried through the door, and only then did she realize that Buck was leaning against the chalkboard at the front of the room. He held up a hand. “Can it wait, Yasmin? I’m conducting an interview.”
Buck was interviewing Josiah? Since when did he work extra hours to solve a case? “About what?”
“That’s confidential, unless he chooses to disclose it to you.”
“He has special needs, you know that, Buck!” She wished she hadn’t been so desperate to talk that she’d shared his diagnosis with Buck, especially the way things had turned out. But knowing that, Buck ought to follow procedure all the more. “Doesn’t he have the right to have a lawyer here?”
“He does.” The voice came from behind her. Liam, and she practically sagged with relief. “What’s this all about, Buck?”
Buck held up a hand like a stop sign and shook his head. “Josiah can have a representative here, but I’m not at liberty to disclose what this interview is about.”
“I’ll disclose it,” Josiah said. “I didn’t kill that man.”
Yasmin’s stomach twisted into a million knots.
She’d suspected Josiah herself, at one point, because of the way he’d run into the center wanting to hide that night. But she just couldn’t believe that Josiah had it in him to kill someone. It wasn’t in his DNA. “Of course you didn’t kill anyone,” she said, walking over to grasp her brother’s hand. “And you don’t have to answer Officer Mulligan’s questions if you don’t want to. If you need a lawyer, we’ll get you one.”
Josiah shook his head back and forth. His forehead wrinkled, his eyes nearly crunched closed, he looked shaken and miserable. A hot rage built inside Yasmin that this had happened to her brother. He didn’t need accusations like this. He suffered enough already.
“We all know he’s sick, Yasmin,” Buck said. “People with s
chizophrenia are violent, and it’s not even his fault. I’m sure a jury would take his condition into consideration.”
Yasmin wanted to press her hands over her brother’s ears to keep him from hearing the hurtful words. How she wished she’d never confided in Buck about Josiah’s diagnosis. But they’d started seeing each other soon after Yasmin had learned about Josiah and had realized she could develop the disorder herself. She’d been desperate for someone to talk to, but Buck had been a terrible choice. He’d had little sympathy, and now he was throwing the information around in front of Liam and whoever else might be listening. She wondered how many people he’d told. “He would never do anything violent,” she said firmly.
“She’s right,” said Miss Vi, who had showed up in the doorway behind Liam. Now she walked all of the way in, hands on hips. “I’ve worked with this man for months now, and I know his personality. He doesn’t have a violent bone in his body.”
“Why is this interview turning into a social hour?” Buck threw up his hands. “A little professionalism, please. Liam, could you take them out?”
Yasmin wrinkled her forehead. Buck talked to Liam as if he were his boss, but she happened to know they were on equal footing, and Liam was by far the superior officer in terms of competence.
“If we’re talking professionalism,” Miss Vi said, “I’d like to see you display a little bit more of it. Have you ever looked at the statistics about crime and mental illness? People like Josiah are far more likely to be victims of crimes than perpetrators.”
Buck made a disgusted sound, picked up his tablet and pointed it at Josiah. “Obviously, I’m not getting anything done here. I still want to talk to you, but now doesn’t seem to be that time. I’d like for you to come into the station.”
Yasmin was still holding her brother’s hand, and now she reached up to put an arm around his shoulders. “He’s not coming to the station if I have anything to do with it.”
“He’s not the only one having delusions around here. Think about that.” Buck gave her a meaningful look and then stormed out of the room before anyone could answer his rude remark.
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